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<title>there's a story in the hollow of your neck by hallowed (AMRainer)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25186336">there's a story in the hollow of your neck</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMRainer/pseuds/hallowed'>hallowed (AMRainer)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>as told through history. [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, His duty as a husband is to keep her satisfied, Hot Sex, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Smut on top of smut on top of more smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:01:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25186336</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMRainer/pseuds/hallowed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>that's when he finds she's a work of art, crafted by the heavens to fit in his arms.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Contessina de' Bardi/Cosimo di Giovanni de' Medici</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>as told through history. [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824556</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>there's a story in the hollow of your neck</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I promised to write this a while ago, so I guess it's about time I post. Not going to warn you kids not to read this because if you've made this far it's at your own risk and I'm literally too old for this ;)</p><p>Also, dedicated to the Contimo stans on twitter who literally DM'd me to finish this work. Tsk tsk I had four hours of sleep because of y'all !!</p><p>( in addition, I really love them &lt;3 )</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His sight was on her, ablaze as the brunette carried conversation beside him about something related to his grandchild ( healthily growing inside Lucrezia, one who was sitting by his son's left much like any breakfast would go ). The empty spot by his wife's right attested Lorenzo’s passing, almost like a bitter taste to his morning’s ale.</p><p> </p><p>Still, this wasn’t about reminiscing the unfortunate on this very date. No, azure tints peered at Contessina’s profile with another flavor of memory in the back of his mind.</p><p> </p><p>That long neck, bared by the lack of the necklace he had gifted her with decades ago, and while he understood it was far too soon to ask anything of her, Cosimo could only allow the images to drift back to the previous evening. Fingertips touched that path of skin, her body still warm with the aftermaths of their exchange.</p><p> </p><p>How had this all started?</p><p> </p><p>Ah yes, her visage on top of Santa Maria del Fiore sang a melody to him. Pale delicate features, greens that never failed to capture his utmost attention even through their darkest days when he would avoid even looking at her for <em>fear</em> he would see the ethereal glow of dawn. Always a foolish attempt to hide from her, to keep himself away even when there was this undeniable tug towards one another from the very first moment.</p><p> </p><p><em>Lust</em>, he assumed, for he did not count long to push her up a wall on their first walk side by side. It was as if he could never truly resist her in that aspect, regardless of how much he wished to keep those earthily needs at bay in hopes that it wouldn’t crack through his façade of stoicism and broodiness.</p><p> </p><p>Still, by the moment of life where they stood then, it proved pointless to fight that urge of the flesh ( that enticing hunger when they made back home and he watched her unbind her hair into the long dark curls ). They fell in perfect cascades, thoughts of his drifting to the image of those locks fanning the mattress a couple of nights ago.</p><p> </p><p>They had always known their way to each other when it came to the physical, a drawn that he could never explain and gave up on trying. Because the father of one was already instinctively reaching for her, masculine palms resting on each shoulder as the bared area made him yearn for her like a starved animal would. He was almost pious, despite how he left Albizzi to die and did nothing to soothe his suffering, yet if he must die for any sin then it ought to be gluttony for the skin of his wife.</p><p> </p><p>Thumbs traced the sore spots of her upper back, took an instant long afore he pulled those long sleeves down her arms. Until her top was pooled by her slim waist, breasts exposed and it’s a step into her that he needed to take ( his front pressed to her back, earning a response that’s organic to her after so long ).</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, the way Cosimo nuzzled into her hair was new, palms coming to fondle perky breasts within a moment that brought her impossibly close. His wife’s deft hands not as still anymore for she sneaked one behind to come in between them, to grip him firmly through his breeches until he couldn’t take it anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Emerald hues gazed up at him, almost innocently with her head tilted to the side in an effort to catch his lips. Clearly, victory was on her when their brims indulged in a languid kiss, every single time they parted being to gasp into one another at a new angle or movement or <em>anything, everything</em>. Took her a couple of those to turn in his arms, to deepen their exchange and push him back in wish to reach the bed, that much until he had none of it and hoisted her up to expertly take her down with him.</p><p> </p><p>Their figures on the tapestry, how he toppled over her to have long legs wrap around his waist with a posed invitation to indulge in the carnal. His belt was unbuckled, robe shoved off broad shoulders and a chemise she fixed for him a couple of weeks ago soon to follow as the chamber’s floor grew littered with their discards.</p><p> </p><p>In that moment, when he pulled away momentarily to remove his breeches and ease his own wanton, the younger brunette maneuvered him onto his bum as though he wasn’t permitted to do as he pleased to her this particular evening. <em>No</em>, Contessina slipped off the rest of her dress to flash every single inch of what was only his to take and knelt astride him instead of willing him back to their previous position.</p><p> </p><p>“Look at me”, a sultry whisper, her hand grasping him far too obscenely for her own good, thumb over his tip to have that baritone hum of approval, irresistible flutter of lids on his part even as her opposite hand splayed on his cheek. “Please, husband. . .”</p><p> </p><p>Her plea earned an intent gaze upwards, almost ashamed by the unbridled darkness coating azure tints. She’d seen that of him before, years ago when she walked into his office to berate him for something he probably deserved in the first place ( and now the topic was pretty much unknown, for all her recollections were to the way he <em>fucked</em> the words out of her quite literally ).</p><p> </p><p>It was raw desire, no other than that when he stood between her legs to pound away his riled-up state into her without an excuse for it whatsoever. Not for children, given that Piero was about the age of seven — always the pride of his mother for his scholar trait —, so it was only for them, for him and her and the pent-up frustrations about how stubborn <em>he</em> was and how much of a match to him <em>she</em> was.</p><p> </p><p>Even so, when emeralds found the gems of his sight, there was something else entirely that designed to possess her. Never had he felt that need before, yet there he was staking a claim, heavily cocked inside her only to lose it all at the roll her hips would perform. Always given to a challenge, he never failed to notice past the wedding night ( that horrible moment he wished to erase from his memory much like she did ).</p><p> </p><p><em>Mated like cattle</em>, his very words that he lived up to when he cared about nothing other than taking his anger at his father out on her. To this day, he held this regret, that he should have been better for her, less-selfish for she was never to blame in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>Enough of that unnecessary snippet when she so gloriously aligned him to her entrance, swollen tip of his taking the arousal of hers at which he could only grit his teeth and pray to God that he could keep his eyes on her without losing it all to the momentum. That much not quite forgotten when his wife slid down his length and brought them into one with a throaty moan that he thought to be the most sinful sound he’d ever heard.</p><p> </p><p>Masculine palms rested on her hips, fingers clawed, digging into a grip that sought whatever scant amounts of control he still possessed. Not when she clamped so tightly around him, warm and moist and. . . <em>perfect </em>as ever.</p><p> </p><p>It would take her canting those hips for Cosimo to be all too aware that he wouldn’t do in this position for long. Especially when her breasts softly bounced with every and each time Contessina brought her figure down onto him, sweet sounds of her rapture being all he could hear along with the visage of her exquisite figure.</p><p> </p><p>Donatello was correct to sculpt a goddess out of her, for it started with those green hues of her mysterious sight, traveled the pale collarbones and flushed cheekbones ( and those <em>oh so</em> feminine curves, very same that held the attention of his wandering palms ). Of course, he wouldn’t ever let any other see what was solely his for the taking, the debauched image of his wife contorting in the building throes of passion that he provided and she willingly took as he filled her up to the brim.</p><p> </p><p>Skins were fiery, orange licks of the fireplace set shortly behind them only letting the brunette pair plenty aware that they had caved in to their needs on the tapestry instead of the comfort of their bed. Perhaps if they were younger, the banker would have seen reason in their appetite, but then the newfound peace of their later days only appeared to fuel their desires.</p><p> </p><p>Much like himself, Contessina was happy to oblige with her ‘<em>marital duties</em>’ that had surpassed any effort — in fact — and became an entirely different thing. That was clear by the way he growled with impatience, hooked a strong arm around her thin waist and switched positions until her back was on the ground and he hovered over her ( an instant to thrust back in, that bump upwards known by the both of them ).</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ah</em>— You cannot let me lead once, can you?”, her tone was ragged, long white legs locking around his frame in casual fashion to allow him a final inch within her, stretch her to most in a singular motion.</p><p> </p><p>As for the grey streaked man, he supported himself the best he could on his hands whilst skillfully surging forward with harsh thrusts that he knew her to enjoy. There was this one thing he always did, to receive that particular mewl in return telling him he had reached the <em>right</em> spot. Cosimo was a natural overachiever, thus it was no surprise he aspired to thrive in every single aspect, even if this one hadn’t been the case in the beginning of their union.</p><p> </p><p>“Not when you come that much faster like this”, a reply that accompanied how he shifted only slightly to the left <em>until</em>—</p><p>
  
</p><p>The younger brunette arched into him; nails wrote a story on his muscular back with a sharp sound of unrestrained arousal. Wet thuds of their sex resulting in that waft all over their shared chamber, along with the growing slap of skin against skin. Perhaps it was for the best that Lucrezia and Piero had apartments far from theirs, despite how Contessina thought it was in vain when they had been quite <em>indiscreet</em> about their rebound.</p><p> </p><p>“There you are—”, he managed even between gritted teeth, shallow breath escaping past his lips as he was unsurprised by the way his wife began to meet his thrusts and <em>fucked</em> herself onto him much like he did into her. “See?”</p><p> </p><p>“You are— <em>infuriating</em>—”, was the last she could hold back of reason, the final word melding with a full moan that grew even more present to the rhythms of their coupling.</p><p> </p><p>He was too far gone — lost in their warm embrace — to even bother with whatever was said by her or himself in that particular scenario. Lowering himself on his elbows, the man felt the wood scrape his knees, leave a mark that would remind him of this eventful night through the following days.</p><p> </p><p>That was the sole motivation for him to bend down, lips closed around the flesh on the swell of her breast, and suck a purple stain that would keep him in her thoughts more than he probably already was. A wince, complaining about that one thing regardless of how her walls instinctively <em>clenched</em> to announce a wave of pleasure that dared approach without further ado.</p><p> </p><p>Often, Contessina would be somewhat distraught at that very fact about herself, for whenever it happened to be her husband’s touch, her body would betray reason so very easily. Even contradict her more composed reactions, attracted to him in a sense that was barely understood up to this date. That was too much to muse over, though, especially as the pitch of her vocalization turned into less educated, greedy for his flesh much like he seemed to be for hers.</p><p> </p><p>Palm cupped the back of his neck, brought his forehead to rest on hers whilst he pistoned his hips. <em>One, two, three, four and then</em>—</p><p> </p><p>A cacophony of sensual sounds, breathed into their proximity while her peak spread a thousand colors behind her eyes and had her limbs tightening around his frame to maintain him buried <em>deep</em> inside her. All it took for him to shortly follow, indeed, as the fluttering walls sucked his throbbing member in much like a primal need to lace them together. When the older man emptied himself with lousy thrusts and a thick grunt, it was Contessina’s gasp of dainty surprise at the warmness of his spurts filling her that posed as a charm ( one he easily relished ).</p><p> </p><p>Another remembrance that this was all for their selfish reasons, dilated pupils of the matriarch barely focusing as she caught a glimpse of his final deliveries in such a way that could only prolong the sensitive afterthroes, mere sight of him disappearing between her thighs etched in her memory. Chest heaved, her figure clad in a film of perspiration much like his own.</p><p> </p><p>Silently, Cosimo extricated himself from her cunt only to see the moist trail of his come mingled to her juices. Two digits slowly moving to her where the mixture leaked, an innate need to have her take every single drip of him much present when he pushed the pads inside her to keep her from spilling and give back the little that had already seeped. Maybe if she hadn’t just climaxed, her reaction would have been other than a half-kilter <em>‘oh’</em>.</p><p> </p><p>As an offer, the man lied on his side and had plump lips meet hers for a sloppy kiss. Tongue and teeth and the expert brims of each other until he ensured that he got what he wanted of her, the manner she still clenched around him occasionally sending a wish for more that he would have complied in case they were not both drained of energy. At last, Cosimo withdrew his fingers to wipe them clean on the chemise that was right beside him.</p><p> </p><p>It was his turn to rest properly on the spot beside her, to stare up at the ceiling much like she was doing, breaths audible in an effort to regain control of the air.</p><p> </p><p>Wouldn’t be long before her chin rested on his torso, near his heart, and she peered up at him from her favorite position even if they were both still bare and only a fur that the woman pulled from the armchair clad their nether region from being on display ( in case of an emergency rose ). After she fell asleep by side, though, the father of the dynasty could be caught staring down at the shape of her neck with his barely there smile.</p><p> </p><p>Despite how her necklace wasn’t resting there anymore, which definitely was something for him to deal with later, he found the true beauty he so often aspired to commission paintings, sculptures and all else of — lying quietly in the security of his arms. Crooked fingers outlined the side of her neck carefully, wishing not to stir her up from the soft slumber. Art brought him many things, had showed him what he considered almost impossible of mortal men and that all life needed was to be seen from a variety of perspectives.</p><p> </p><p>Yet it was <em>never</em> capable to rewrite the story in the hollow of her neck.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>drop a review, pleath?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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